


uneasy hearts weigh the most

by babysolie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, College AU, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Oneshot, Pining, Vernon is bad at feelings, anyways vernon is a highkey aquarius, art boy hao and vernon has an existential crsis, i cant spell, i wrote this in like 2 hours im sorry, verhao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babysolie/pseuds/babysolie
Summary: hansol has a crush.crushes are not good for hansol.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon & Xu Ming Hao | The8, Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	uneasy hearts weigh the most

It started out as something small. 

Something as small as the palette Minghao uses when he paints a basic sunset, the vibrant purple he uses that fades into a beautiful orange sky. They shouldn’t blend so well, but he’s the perfect artist—  _ daring _ , not afraid to take a risk or two. 

Minghao knows if it doesn’t work that he’s smart enough to cover his mistakes. He’s smart enough to change the perspective and make it his own landscape— his own fantasy. 

He’s brilliant in that regard, and Hansol can’t help but develop a staring problem. 

A staring problem became more than him physically watching as Minghao worked, it turned into something he was mentally aware of— a  _ crush _ . 

Crushes weren’t good for Hansol. 

Hansol would become selfish when he had a crush, selfish in the sense that he would immediately go into his own whimsical brain where he can imagine a flourishing, totally rebellious future. Something outside of the norm with the person who piqued his interest, where they give the world the middle finger and make out under a burning sun. 

Something like that. Something crazy, outlandish, which ropes him back into that hole of rationality that he’s trapped himself in. 

It’s like a Lion’s Den, except the lions drooling over his flesh were the harsh reminders of his reality that he is one simple human— one silly little college kid with a crush on his upperclassmen in an art class he signed up for last minute. 

He wasn’t even that great at painting. 

It doesn’t backfire for him though, because Minghao sees that he’s not good and quietly makes it a point to help him. 

Hansol drowns in each little quip, the small nods that Minghao gives him, the tiny box smiles that are rare but make him look so pretty. He wraps the memory of each and every little physical touch around him like a warm blanket and pines for more. 

He’s gotten good at pining, he thinks, but he doesn’t know if that’s much of an accomplishment to brag about.  _ It probably wasn’t _ . It’s sad, if one is to look too far into it. 

Hansol gets a little better at painting day by day, and his muse becomes a little more apparent each and every painting he turns in. From the painting of Minghao’s blue overalls laying over the branches of an oak tree to the dark, swirling ocean he fingerpainted… it could easily be tied into the key strings he’s tied to Minghao’s being. 

It’s like he’s splattered each and every feeling onto a canvas without making an absolute mess.  _ Somehow _ . 

Sometimes he feels like he’ll never have a chance with Minghao, and that’s when his paintings become dark— sad, something a little off kilter. Minghao’s studious, smart— he gets his work done efficiently and cares a lot about the security of his future. He wanted to expand his creative mind, he said during his presentation to the class, and that only made sense. 

Hansol, on the other hand, was a walking trainwreck. He only went to art class  _ for  _ Minghao. His other classes were like a weight on his shoulders that he carried instead of simply learning to distribute, barely attending and slipping by. It wasn’t that he was stupid, he wasn’t, he was just… beyond the school walls. 

He didn’t want to be held to an academic standard, he didn’t want to live in class— he wanted to make sure he was secure in the present before he could even consider his future. 

The differences in motivations put a boundary between him and Minghao, only splitting them further, and it showed in his artwork. The walls with different colors pouring out of them, a white spot in between— the void in which those colors would never meet, because not even Minghao could blend them together. 

At least, that’s what Hansol convinced himself to believe. 

But other times, it seems possible. Minghao smiles at Hansol, finds him funny and takes time to even coddle him sometimes— something rare, he thinks. A slight chance becomes a long one in his brain, it’s something to expand on and work with. 

Maybe if he tried, he could make it happen. 

He liked the small smiles and fond nods, he liked the way Minghao giggled at his dumbfounded antics, he liked being the one to make Minghao so… bubbly and…  _ cute _ . 

It all ties back into being selfish. In his dreamland, it was what he wanted his reality to be. Something so small turned into something he felt under his skin, dripping off of him like sweat. It turned into a portfolio titled “this is what love might be,” which Minghao had to peer review. 

He liked it.  _ Liked it a lot.  _

“I always like everything you do,” he said, giving him that same smile. Hansol tried to push away that overflowing happiness that threatened to spill, a shy look on his face when he nodded back. 

“You’re too nice,” Hansol joked, sheepish, trying to laugh it all off. 

But you can’t shake off that feeling of being so close to word vomiting your adoration for someone, it looms over— a promising threat. Thank god Hansol has enough restraint. 

Minghao giggled, smacking his arm lightly, staying close. “You’re ridiculous. I really do like your art, especially since I can tell it’s not something you do daily..” And he gave him a reassuring smile, arm wrapping around his shoulder to give it a squeeze, smiling. 

It all could’ve escaped him, every single feeling. 

He could’ve thrown up an ocean of words that talked about how perfectly clear he can see Minghao’s face in his dreams, how every single painting in that portfolio that Minghao was holding was about him, how he wished he could just be more brave— more  _ honest _ . 

How he wished he wasn’t content with just this, but he is, because he doesn’t want to take the leap and fall. 

He doesn’t want to be rejected. 

So he _pines_ , and he _watches_. He lets himself wonder but _never_ wander. He lets himself grow pliant every time he’s touched, but never reaches to initiate anything himself. 

It’s easy to take the backseat to his own feelings. 

It’s easy to not drive over the cliff and hope when he drops, he would then rise from his bed and it’s just a bad dream. 

Hansol was okay with hoping for something that would never come to him. It was easier than the thought of getting a solid answer, of Minghao putting him down gently and never picking him back up again— like an old paintbrush that keeps giving him splinters. 

It started out as something small, and Hansol continued to let it fester. 

Now it lives in his nerves, behind his eyelids— it’s the itch he could never scratch just right, and he’s decided that’s okay. 

It’s easier to stand at the edge than to fall. 

And maybe that’s something that could be considered small. 

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiI   
> i wrote this to uh   
> get smth off my mind   
> but yeah i hope this was ok! its mainly just vernons thoughts   
> lemme know whats up   
> my twt is @ 666YKHN


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